


Bright Eyes

by heartswells



Category: Hockey RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - D/s, Angst, Catharsis, Come Eating, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Depression, F/M, Felching, Hurt/Comfort, Light D/s, Rule 63, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartswells/pseuds/heartswells
Summary: “Connor, I love you. I’m going to take care of you,” Mitch promised. “Trust me to do what’s right for you.”He nodded, blood spilling across his tongue as his teeth dug into his lip. She always did what was right for him. It seemed an unspoken law of the universe, and he revered it.“Connor, let yourself cry.”





	Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to a lot of Bright Eyes while writing this.   
>    
>  **Girl!Mitch**   
> 

“Please, Mitchy.” Connor’s voice sounded so frail that the words seemed to wither to dust in the air. He looked weak, as if he struggled to hang on to the edge of reality, threatening to become transparent and fade from existence. Mitch had never seen him look so hurt, and she ached for him. Reaching out, she  curled her fingers around the back of his neck in acceptance of his submission and tethered him to her universe.

 

“The tile will injure you, Con,” she chided as she led him down the hallway. He had attempted to drop to his knees immediately upon stepping through the doorway, but Mitch had slipped an arm under him before he could hit the floor.

 

“Don’t care,” he whispered.

 

“I know,” she soothed, “but I do.”

 

Mitch led Connor to her room, a steadfast arm holding him against her to remind him of her strength and to comfort him with the knowledge that she was there to support him. With each step she listened to his shaking breaths. They were labored, burdened with the sound the body makes as it strains to push back sobs and hide from its own pain. But you cannot hide from your own body no matter how hard you try, and Connor’s begged for release. And Mitch—she would wish away her only star for him.

 

“You can kneel now, Connor,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulders and firmly pushing him down. He fell forward, hands twisting in his lap, staring down at Mitch’s mismatched socks. She had thrown down a plush feather cushion, large enough to hold him in entirety, and he sank into it. The lamp on her bedside table cast a golden glow that failed to reach the edges of her room, but where Connor knelt, it caught in the blonde specks in his hair and gleamed, casting shadows that drew out the shimmering highlights of his face. He looked beautiful.

 

“Thank you for coming to me, Connor,” Mitch said, settling on the edge of the bed. She watched the ragged rise and fall of Connor’s shoulders as he knelt and thanked the skies that he had come to her rather than seek an unknown dom in a sleazy downtown bar. He looked so meek, so desperate, she feared to think of him walking the streets. All the strength on his bones looked worn away; he looked like clay, thin and cracking. There was a world outside that sharpened its knives and dreamed of seeing him bleed and— _no_. The rest was left for nightmares and had no place in this realm.

 

“What would you like?” she asked while bending forward to run both of her hands through his hair and fan it out like a lion’s mane.

 

“Punish me,” he said, voice cracking.

 

“No.”

 

“Mitchy, _please—_ ”

 

“Connor. You don’t deserve to be punished,” she said overtop his pleas, “It won’t make you feel better. It will just reinforce the hurt you’re feeling, Con. You need to heal. I won’t help you hurt yourself.”

 

He reached out and clutched at her pants, curling his trembling fingers in the fabric. His knuckles burned bright white and the cuts and calluses covering his hands from a season of cruelty cracked open.

 

“Connor, I love you. I’m going to take care of you,” she promised. “Trust me to do what’s right for you.”

 

He nodded, blood spilling across his tongue as he dug his teeth into his lip. She always did what was right for him. It seemed an unspoken law of the universe, and he revered it.

 

“Connor, let yourself cry.”

 

And he did.

 

He buried his face against the soft strength of her thighs and sobbed. She struggled to swallow her own breaths for the first minute, caught in the horror of seeing crying so violent it resembled illness. Every swallowed secret since the beginning of his career spilled out in the form of water and salt, suddenly free and angry and wordless and rioting. It was as if all the bones in his body had broken, and now he was forced to vomit every splintered shard out, his whole body shuddering and bleeding out from the inside. His skin was hot and feverish, and he burned and shivered. Like Prometheus, he seemed to be ripped open and eaten alive second after second.

 

Mitch leaned over him, gathering him in her arms and hugging him between her thighs, encasing him in the warm, soft haven of her body. She buried her lips in his hair and breathed in the faint perfume of shampoo and heavy scent of sweat. She kissed him softly, humming sweet _shhs_ and _I love yous_ into his skin. More than anything, Mitch whispered a litany of her praise. _You’re so good for me, Connor. I love you. You’re being so, so good, Con. I’m proud of you._

 

Because really all that Connor wanted was to be good for someone, to hear that he was doing something right, and to know that he was making someone proud.

 

She didn’t know how much time passed until Connor’s tears quieted. She had wrapped her arms around his shoulders and settled her cheek in the crook of his neck at some point, and she stayed their, running her fingers through his hair in comfort, feeling the tremble of his breaths as his shoulders shook. It was quiet, a silence left to mourn the moment, before he eventually pulled back. She sat up and tipped his head up with her fingers to force him to look at her.

 

“I’m proud of you, Connor,” she said, her voice sweetened and warmed by sincerity. He worried his lip between his teeth and nodded as if he was afraid to speak. That was okay.

 

“Water,” Mitch announced brightly after another beat of silence, breaking the somber atmosphere. She swiped a bottle off her nightstand, and pressed it to Connor’s lips, giggling when a couple droplets slipped from the corners of his mouth. The clumsy struggle of helping one another drink was a nostalgic joke of nights passed, and Connor managed to quirk a watery smile alongside her.

 

“And now, happiness!” she said gleefully, whipping out a baggie of chocolates from under her pillow and flaunting it  in the air. “These are the absolute, _best._ ”

 

Mitch tossed back her own handful before pushing a candied chocolate between Connor’s lips. The shell crunched loudly as he bit into it, and she couldn’t help but grin as she watched him chew. His cheeks always puffed out the tiniest bit, and she would feed him just to see the adorable way his lips quirked when he swallowed. As the sugar diffused through his body, Connor began to revive, and his eyes flickered between her eyes and her body, raking up and down her figure.

 

“Do you want to sleep, Connor? It’s been a long day for you,” she asked.

 

“No, ma’am,” he answered. _Fuck_ , she loved when he called her that. Mitch drew a shuddering breath as he looked up towards her, eyes alight.

 

“Do you want to be good for me then, Con?” She purred, spreading her legs.

 

“Please.”

 

“Okay, baby,” she said, “Strip for me first though.”

 

She indulged in the flex of his body as the lamplight flashed over his skin and his body danced in the shadows. He was all sharp lines and arches, muscled and callused, but she knew the tenderness of his touch, the way his fingers dragged along her skin as if coated in honey and the way his lips brushed against hers like feathers. He blushed under her stare; her eyes were so praising and loving that he often found is scary. Sometimes Mitch seemed to look into souls, and that was where her power was: passion.

 

She had worked off her own clothes, and against the dark sheets of her bed, she looked angelic, all pale skin and pink promises. She buried her hands in his hair and tugged him forward between her thighs, and he felt a rush of saliva fill his mouth as she displayed herself. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, drawing a deep breath so the sweet, sharp musk of her washed over him.

 

“Hands on me only,” she directed, and he settled his palms against her, gently pushing her back to lie down before slipping her legs over his shoulders where he knelt. She huffed in surprise as her back hit the sheets.

 

Connor’s lips melted against her skin, planting chaste, worshipful kisses against her folds before he buried his face against her, nuzzling the blond curls above her clit and teasing her with hot, wet breaths. He kissed her clit gently, slipping out his tongue to lap at it lightly before licking one broad stripe up her, surprising her with the sudden full sensation. He teased her slit with his tongue, allowing the tang of her wetness dance across his tastebuds, before moving back up to suck on her clit. He teased a finger over her slit before slipping it inside, moaning at how hot and wet she felt, mouth beginning to move a little rougher and messier.

 

He slipped in another finger and pumped them slowly, speeding up when she crossed her ankles behind his head to draw him in deeper and tugged on his hair. Her thighs trembled as she moaned his name, hips undulating against his jaw, begging for release. Connor scraped his teeth over her clit the way he knew she loved, and Mitch gasped out his name as she fell over the edge. He carried her through it, lapping up the mess until she was chanting his name and pulling him up by his hair, overstimulated.

 

“Connor, fuck,” she panted, pulling him on top of her. “Fuck me.”

 

Mitch spread her legs lewdly and pressed herself against his thigh, teasing him with her heat. He dug his fingers into one of her hips to hold her still and hitched her left leg around his waist as he slid in. Connor paused, resting his forehead against hers, letting their heavy breaths mix. She reached up to crash his lips against hers, and he began to thrust into her as she licked around his lips where her own come was still smeared.

 

“Fuck, you’re so good for me, Connor,” Mitch praised, wrapping her arms around his neck. Connor moaned in reply, lost in her tightness.

 

“Come on, baby,” Mitch began, her voice stuttering in pleasure, “I want you to come in me, Connor.”

 

Their lips collided again, and he thrust messily in quick, hard snaps. Mitch moved her lips to his neck, mouthing and nipping at the sweaty skin, teasing her tongue and teeth along his shoulders. He came moaning her name, fingers digging bruises into her sides, eyes fluttering shut as he gasped for breath.

 

Mitch hummed lovingly, shoving him down next to her where he crashed onto his back with a sigh. She giggled; come-dumb Connor was her favorite Connor. But when she moved to curl up against his side as always, he stopped her and pushed her back down onto her back.

 

“Connor, what are you doing?” She pouted. Mitch wanted her cuddles _now._

 

“You didn’t come a second time,” he answered, voice rough.

“Connor, what? You don’t need to—” she began to protest, but Connor pushed her thighs open. Then he dipped his fingers inside her, coating his fingers in her come, and raised them to his lips.

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” Mitch breathed out as he slowly licked the come off of them. She struggled to breathe as come glistened on his lips, and his tongue slid along his fingers. He pushed himself up and moved back down between her thighs to rest on his elbows.

His come was dripping out of her, thick and lovely, and so, so _his_. His dipped his fingers back in and curled them to draw more out, licking it off her skin as it rushed forth. She was hot and swollen, and his lips felt like fire against her. He swirled his thumb over her clit as he pumped his fingers to drink all that he could from her, and she came quickly, back arching with a broken yell. Connor teased her through it, licking her clean of their night until Mitch was whimpering and tearful.

“Connor,” she moaned as he pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around her. He settled his ear against her chest and listened to the quick pace of her heart. She twisted around, and he watched as her eyelids fluttered and her breathing evened out into sleep.

Lately, he felt like maybe hockey was a mistake. There seemed to be more injury, more pain, and more failure than there seemed any good. Yet hockey was how he had found Mitch, and Mitch was worth more than life itself. The sum of all that was bad could never outweigh the single moment he first saw Mitch’s smile across the ice. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments make my day.


End file.
